


Blue Eyes at Sunrise

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Shutter Island (2010)
Genre: 1950s, Affection, Angst, Apathy, Authority Figures, Birdwatching, Boundaries, Caretaking, Cigarettes, Competency, Dancing, Dependence - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Devotion, Dignity, Doctor/Patient, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Ethics, Emotional Intimacy, Feeding, Forbidden Love, Good Intentions, Historical References, Hospitalization, Impulse Control, Inappropriate Erections, Incapacitation, Intimacy, Kindness, Kissing, Listening to Music, Lobotomy, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Procedures, Medicine, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Music, Nursing, Passivity, Pet Therapy, Power Imbalance, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Psychosurgery, Public Nudity, Recovery, Sad, Seaside, Sexual Frustration, Star-crossed, Taboo, Therapy, Urination, Weight Gain, compassion - Freeform, movieverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the lobotomy, some things change. Some things don't.</p><p>Recovery can mean many things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this is slash and movie!verse. You have been warned.
> 
> I said I was doing this, and now I am. Prepare for emotional rollercoasters and all that.
> 
> This fic is going to be a challenge because I am trying to go for medical accuracy, but also write good fiction, and there is a lack of prose to draw inspiration from that treats patients in this medical situation with decency or dignity, or even as people. They are usually plot devices, at best.
> 
> I want to illustrate the healing process, emotionally, for someone dealing with the loss of functioning of a loved one. I have no direct experience with lobotomies, but I have quite a bit with dementia, and some of the issues are similar (though with lobotomies, you have the benefit of not being on a spiral downwards, as you often do with dementia.)
> 
> I am not a doctor; merely a man who has a fascination with medical history, and with representation of different characters in fiction. I want to express the humanity of Laeddis in this fic.
> 
> I hope to show that Teddy Daniels may be gone, but Andrew Laeddis is more of a person than he was able to be in a long time.
> 
> This story will deal with some of the medical side-effects that my research has brought up on this topic, as well as the recovery process in general, both for the patient and the patient's loved ones, who have to adjust as well. (In this case, the loved one is Sheehan.)
> 
> As always, I appreciate feedback, as well as directions to sources of extensive medical research - I could read up on historical procedural practices forever and never get bored. So if you know any good books, let me know! I've read a few, but there may be ones I haven't heard of before. :)
> 
> Also, re: flies - while nowadays we tend not to view them as very dangerous, they were blamed for the polio epidemics in the United States in the 1930s and 1940s. After the end of WWII, the government sprayed tons of insecticides to kill them, and it was only after that didn't work that people started to question the fly theory.
> 
> So since this story is set in 1954, the fly theory is scientifically in the 'debunking' stage, but the fear of flies in people who grew up at that period, and specifically the thought of flies as disease-spreaders, was still prevalent. 
> 
> The reason I had Lester think about it was because medically he may have, in 1954 disagreed with the theory, but he would have lived through it and possibly internalized it. Because of how emotionally upset he is in this chapter, he's acting somewhat irrationally about the fly, since he feels helpless and wants to do something to 'fix' his circumstances. The only thing he can think to do is to kill the fly, in that moment.
> 
> I hope that makes sense. :P
> 
> I really hope you enjoy my fic, and think I treat things realistically.

* * *

When Teddy Daniels went off to meet his fate with his head held high, Lester Sheehan knew it would be the last he’d see of him. Cawley knew it too, knew that it cut deep, knew that Laeddis had always been special to Lester (though just how special he was to him was a closely guarded secret that Lester wouldn’t even fully reveal to himself.) Cawley went as far as to offer Lester an out if he didn’t want to witness the procedure – something to do with organizing paperwork – and the offer was tempting indeed. Years later, Lester would wonder if accepting the offer would have changed anything. It is doubtful that it would have. Laeddis had already gotten under his skin long ago.  
  
The fact of the matter was that he said no and held his heart in his mouth, silent and transfixed, as the long metal instrument slid into Laeddis and the traces of Teddy Daniels were scrambled out of existence.  
  
The procedure was a technical success, which Lester was immensely grateful for. How Laeddis would actually take to life afterwards remained to be seen, but at least nothing had gone wrong physically. Lester hoped that at least Laeddis would be happier – the loss of his spark and passion a worthwhile price to pay to rid him of that anger and to free him from his dead wife’s hold.  
  
When Laeddis finally came to, Lester was sleeping, and an orderly was sent to fetch him. It took him mere seconds to be out of bed and in the hall, bundling himself in a worn dressing gown as hurried to the room where Laeddis was recovering from the procedure. When he arrived, Lester found his patient awake, his blue eyes half-lidded and passive, with a slight smile on his face.  
  
Cawley beckoned Lester over.  
  
“Andrew, this is your psychiatrist, Dr. Sheehan. Do you remember him?”  
  
Andrew nodded slowly.  
  
“Think so,” he said, and his voice was the same, and yet different.  
  
Something in Lester’s chest clenched but he ignored it, putting on a professional expression of mild interest.  
  
“Good.”  
  
Lester moved closer and took a seat at the end of Laeddis’s bed.  
  
“How are you feeling today?” he asked. Laeddis shrugged.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“No pain?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Any feelings of anxiety? Of anger?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well that’s something,” Lester said and smiled as hopefully as he could, though he knew the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. In that moment, he doubted quite seriously if he’d ever truly smile again. He wondered if anyone would notice. Laeddis didn’t pick up on his private agonizing – wouldn’t have even if he had all his mind functioning to capacity.  
  
He had become distracted by a fly that was crawling along the bedside table.  
  
“Andrew? Andrew?” Cawley said softly and Laeddis turned his unfocused gaze reluctantly on the two doctors.  
  
“Dr. Sheehan will monitor your health and well-being. He will be a friend to you. I will be available if you need me. I will also be a friend to you.”  
  
Laeddis nodded vacantly his eyes sliding back to watch the fly.  
  
Cawley rose with the soft groan of a man getting on in years, and strode to the door and Lester trailed after him.  
  
“Don’t let him absorb too much of your time,” Cawley warned. “Don’t punish yourself.”  
  
“Punish myself? For what, getting him into this?”  
  
“It wasn’t your fault.”  
  
“It was my responsibility to keep him from needing this procedure –”  
  
“Sheehan, I don’t like failure any more than you do, but the man was a danger to himself and to others. He’s comfortable, and at peace now. He’s had the best care we could give him – better than many others would give him. You did your best. Remember that.”  
  
There was a collegial sympathy in Cawley’s tone as he patted Lester on the shoulder in a fatherly manner and left the room to give him some time with his patient. Sheehan rarely needed shepherding but this was a special case. He sighed and pasted the smile back on his face and made his way wearily back to the bed.  
  
“Would you like to go out, Andrew? We can go for a walk. Look at the grounds?”  
  
Laeddis shook his head.  
  
“Would you like me to read to you?”  
  
He shrugged but didn’t reject the offer, so Lester left the orderly watching him to see what books were available, his heart heavy with the weight of his grief. He knew he should be happy that Laeddis had finally been afforded some comfort by the universe that had so thoroughly destroyed him, yet he could feel nothing but a selfish guilt that ate at his insides like a parasite.  
  
He returned with some book or other, having grabbed the first one he saw without having the will to looking at it, only to find Laeddis asleep in his bed, his face relaxed and serene. The pain in Lester's chest was enough to make his eyes water.  
  
The fly flew over and lit upon Laeddis's cheek.  
  
Lester never thought he'd wish to be a fly, but the longing was there, just to touch, to assure himself that Laeddis was still, in body, at least, with him.  
  
When the fly moved to land on the doorframe, Lester brought the hardcover edition of Moby Dick down on it, and felt his own chest throb as if crushed.  
  
Flies carried diseases. He was a doctor, he worked to protect his patients. He had a job to do.  
  
His eyes returned to Laeddis's prone form and he swallowed against the lump in his throat.  
  
He had a job to do.


	2. Birds on the Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sea view, birds, desire.

* * *

It had been a week since Laeddis had been subjected to the procedure. Lester was slowly trying to coax him to do something, anything with himself that pushed him to venture beyond the confines of his room. As a medical man, Lester knew that a potential side-effect of undergoing a lobotomy was to lose interest in most things, except those which were stimulus-bound, but he also knew that sometimes it was not a lack of interest, but a _lack of a capacity to engage_ that kept patients from interacting with their environments. He hoped that if he could find something that could grab Andrew’s attention, it would hold it and give the former marshal something to do.

The weather was mild and from the cliffs near the lighthouse, you could see the sea birds soaring in their wide orbits, circling around the rocks below. There was something soothing about the repetitive crash of the waves and the calls of the island’s feathered visitors. It was as good a view as you could get around the place, anyway, so Lester decided to try it out on Laeddis to see if it got a response.

It took some coaxing to get Laeddis out of bed and into a jacket and shoes, but Lester managed it with the help of an orderly, and proceeded to get him to the door at last. Laeddis didn’t seem particularly interested, at first, but as Lester spread a thin blanket on the ground and sat him down, he seemed at least to relax a little into the unusual circumstances. He went as far as to look around at his surroundings with a sort of puzzled expression on his face.

“What’s here?” he asked. He was still speaking very sparingly – something Lester hoped he could remedy, with time and practice.

“Just the sea. It’s nice out – I thought we could have lunch.”

The nurses, bless them, had been smart to suggest that he bring some food along. Laeddis’s appetite had returned almost immediately after the procedure, and he never turned down a meal (see footnote 1). Lester had gotten the cooks to make him some sandwiches, which he’d kept in a paper bag he’d brought along specifically for the occasion. He also withdrew a thermos of coffee, and poured some of the hot liquid out into the lid. He handed one of the sandwiches – salami on rye – to Laeddis, who took a large bite out of it immediately, smacking his lips appreciatively.

“How’d the cooks do? Is it good?” Lester asked and Laeddis nodded. Smiling slightly at the exchange, Lester dug into his own lunch and the pair ate in silence, staring out at the sea.

A gust of wind caught the now-empty paper bag and lifted it from where it lay on the ground, leading it out over the sea like a man asking a pretty girl to dance. The wind and the bag waltzed for a while. Laeddis watched the display, and Lester watched Laeddis for a flicker of interest or curiosity. Once the sandwiches were done, and the coffee, gone, Lester reached into his coat pocket for a cigarette.

“I want to smoke,” Laeddis said. Lester paused, hand half inside his pocket.

“Pardon?”

“I want to smoke. Let me smoke.”

Lester nodded and passed a cigarette to Laeddis, who stuck it between his lips. This, he remembered. That was a very good sign. Laeddis looked at Lester expectantly, his blue eyes wide. Swallowing, Lester leaned in and lit the cigarette, throwing the match into the sea. Laeddis sank back on his elbows, taking a long drag. Lester found himself reclining alongside him, looking up to watch the birds.

“Birds,” Laeddis began. Lester waited to see if he’d elaborate. He didn’t.

It was remarkable, how comfortable Lester felt with Laeddis next to him, looking at the sky, his lips tight around a cigarette. It was so familiar, and it felt as though they had done it many times before. This, however, was the first time since the procedure, and that knowledge couldn’t be entirely forgotten, and it left a sour taste in Lester’s mouth.

A cloud floated overhead, heavy and saturated, and stained a moody grey. Lester sighed and rolled onto his side, intending to tell Laeddis that they should be heading back, but his words died in his throat. Laeddis had his eyes closed, his head tilted back as he smoked, showing off the angle of his neck and jaw. Lester felt a prickle of desire take root in his gut, followed by a rush of shame and disgust that left him reeling. He was horrified with himself. His rapid recoiling alerted Laeddis, who turned to face him.

They were lying face to face now. Laeddis was so close that the tip of his cigarette singed Lester’s cheek slightly and he winced, pulling away. This shook him out of the trance-like state he’d fallen into, admiring his patient, and forced him back into the present, to the rumpled picnic blanket, to the fat, dark cloud.

“It’s time to go back inside,” Lester said and Laeddis nodded, allowing himself to be steered back indoors without a fuss. Once Laeddis was safely with the orderlies, Lester retreated to his own room and loosened his tie, his breath coming in tight bursts. He felt sick with himself, and immensely sad. The face he was admiring was the same face he’d come to grow so dangerously, wrongly fond of, yes, but the mind… he still was getting to know it. The in's and out's of its newly scrambled workings were an unfamiliar maze. It wasn’t the mind he’d known – not that he should have lusted after that one, either. The immediacy and potency of his reaction to Laeddis's face, even after so much had happened, filled him with humiliation and fear.

  
 _If they knew what you were, you’d be in a place like this_ , Lester thought bitterly, and an icy chill filled up his guts like winter had made a home there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnote: because lobotomies affect the areas of the brain responsible for impulse control. This means that, in many cases, patients could not resist a meal, when it was presented to them, because the ability to practice restraint is compromised.
> 
> A/N: 
> 
> Sorry for any typos. I beta'd it, but I'll double check tomorrow - I'm currently too exhausted to check. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wet dreams  
> Wet pants  
> Blue eyes that haunt the good doctor's every waking moment
> 
> One-sided desire can drive you mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: warning for: wet dreams (minus the wet, since Lester wakes up right before he gets off,) inappropriate feelings towards a patient, non-sexual pants-wetting, involuntary arousal, angst and self-loathing
> 
> Poor tortured Lester is doing his best. Laeddis is too, but his impulse control is severely impaired. Lester can't bear to see Laeddis stripped of his agency, of his humanity, treated like a helpless child.

* * *

_There was no confusion in Andrew’s eyes as he pulled Lester to him, as he thrust into the man’s tightness. Sweat beaded on his brow and fell onto Lester’s cheek, and it felt like he was being baptized, transformed, remade. Fingers left marks on flesh pulled and scratched in the heat of passion. Andrew’s eyes were so blue, and they burned and Lester was powerless, all-consumed, broken into pieces and scattered to the winds…_

“You okay, doc?”

Lester blinked, and turned to see an orderly looking at him with concern on his face. He nodded.

“Just had a bad night’s sleep is all. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Take it easy, doc.”  
  
“You too.”

As he made his way down the hall, Lester sighed, the lie still heavy on his shoulders.

It’s not that he hadn’t slept, or even that he hadn’t slept well, far from it, in fact.

Laeddis had been in his dreams, strong and whole and remorseless as he took what he wanted, as Lester gave it, willing and wanton as a whore. He’d woken right before he’d come, and had been faced with the choice to wait for his erection to subside, or to take care of it. But taking himself in hand while he was awake, bringing himself off with the image of his patient in his mind, was much, much worse than a dream he had no agency in. That would be a conscious act. This meant giving in.

Cold showers, while never pleasant, have their uses.

As Lester did his rounds, the images of the dream remained sharply in his mind. He couldn’t shake them. As the day wore on, he worried more and more about what would happen when he met with Laeddis for their session. He wasn’t sure he could meet the man’s eyes, now that he’d seen them so full of want.

Laeddis wasn’t in bed, when Lester arrived. He was standing in front of the window, staring through the bars. When Lester knocked on the doorframe to announce himself, he didn’t turn to look at him.

“What are you looking at?” Lester asked, trying to keep his voice cheerful, despite the guilt that was churning in his stomach.

“Birds.”

“Can you see any from here?”

Laeddis pointed. Lester took a few steps forward and followed the direction of the finger with his eyes. A sparrow was sitting on the sill.

“Would you like to see the birds by the lighthouse again? I brought us another picnic lunch,” Lester suggested. Laeddis turned reluctantly away from his sparrow and for the first time that day, Lester found himself staring into the other man’s eyes. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and laughed nervously.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked again. Laeddis nodded and did not resist as Lester helped him into his coat and boots.

The weather was nice, if a bit on the cool side. The sea breeze smelled purifying and clean and Lester inhaled deeply, wishing to purge the unhealthiness of his nature, to make himself a good doctor once again. Laeddis lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the clouds. A seagull landed a few feet away and made off with the crust of Lester’s sandwich, and Laeddis smiled in amusement, which made Lester’s heart ache in his chest.

“You like the birds, don’t you?” he asked, and Laeddis nodded.

“Why?”

“Dunno,” he said softly. “They… anywhere they want to go, they go. To the lighthouse. To the shore. They don’t ask permission. They just go.”

It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it was the most that Laeddis had said so far since the procedure.

“Do you want to do that? To go places, to be free?” Lester prompted, but as the words tumbled out of his mouth he could see the focus fade in Laeddis’s eyes, before his patient turned away from him altogether.

“Birds,” Laeddis said, pointing.

It felt a little like dying, but Lester smiled all the same.

“Birds,” he repeated, the word catching in his throat like a barb.

It was getting near time for Lester’s afternoon rounds. He helped Laeddis to his feet and the pair made their way slowly back to the asylum.

When they reached the stairs Lester noticed that Laeddis was walking strangely.

“What’s the matter?” he asked and found himself falling once more into blue eyes. There was anxiety there, urgency. It was then that Lester noticed the position of Laeddis’s hand.

“Bathroom?” he asked and Laeddis stared at him.

“We’re almost there, come on. Don’t – don’t grab yourself, Andrew. Just hold my arm – that’s it. Good.”

Lester wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly that he had to protect Laeddis’s modesty. The man was no longer ashamed of such things. But the old Laeddis, and the man he’d been when he was Teddy… this would have mortified them both. Somehow, losing that would be like throwing the last traces of his patient’s personality away.

As they crossed the main floor, Laeddis’ grip on Lester’s arm tightened and his eyes unfocused. Lester stared at his face when he released a soft moan, (that shamefully went straight to the doctor’s cock,) and then down at the damp patch that spread over the front of Laeddis’s pants. His patient licked his lips and sighed, his features loose and calm, and Lester was both aroused and horrified by his own reaction. Self-reproach won out as he stared at the puddle spreading beneath Laeddis’s feet.

Lester had to clear his throat three times before he could find his voice and call for an orderly, humiliated, all too aware of the stares of the other patients, the pity in the eyes of the nurses. You would think it had been him who’d pissed himself, the way the flush was creeping up his neck making his ears burn. 

Soon there were people to mop up the floor, and people to usher Laeddis to his room, looking at him as one might a child, not a marshal, not a man.

Lester felt his heart rise into his mouth and he wanted to throw up.

All the while, Laeddis stared at him over his shoulder, looking confused and sad.


	4. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter update this time. I promise some meatier stuff soon.

* * *

     The ice cold water of the shower pounded down on Lester’s body, freezing his blood in his veins and making his teeth chatter. The only part of him that didn’t respond to the cold was the burning heat between his legs. He’d woken up hard again – in the week following Laeddis’s accident, this had already happened four times. He had managed to lose the previous erections in the freezing showers he’d resorted to taking.

    It wasn’t working anymore.

    Lester’s face was screwed up with frustration and he punched the wall of his shower, bruising his knuckles. He could either take care of it quickly or wait it out indefinitely and be late for work.

    It wasn’t much of a choice, but then, what was, these days? He was doomed no matter what he did.

    Shame made him cringe as he set the water temperature up to warm and leaned against the shower wall. He grabbed himself without pretense and tried to be quick and efficient in his strokes, and to think only of finishing, so that he could leave and get on with his day.

    And then his mind, damning him, conjured Laeddis up, his face when he’d pissed looking so much like Lester thought it must look when he comes, his mouth open and wet, his eyes blurring, the groan catching in his throat and leaving him breathy and wanton.

    Lester came hard, thick ropes of ejaculate bursting forth from the end of his cock and splattering his chest and even striking him in the chin. He couldn’t remember ever having come so much or so hard. He shivered and washed himself off roughly.

    Once he’d left the shower and toweled off, he brought his hand up to comb his hair back off his face and paused. Rationally, he knew that a good wash in the shower was enough to clean himself off, but he could swear he could smell his own come on his hands. The more he thought about it, the stronger the smell seemed, choking him and reeking off his flesh.

    He had barely made it to the sink when he threw up.

    As he washed the evidence down the sink, he lathered his hands with soap and began to scrub at his palms, his wrists, his forearms, under his nails. He scrubbed until he felt his skin wear thin in places, stinging under the assault, and kept on scrubbing until a few specs of blood fell from his fingers. Then he splashed water on his face.

    When he pulled back, Lester could scarcely recoginze himself. His face was pale and his eyes wide and wild. He looked like any one of his patients.

    He looked back down at his hands, bleeding where he’d rubbed them too hard, and his stomach threatened to empty itself again.

_God help me, I’m losing my mind…_


	5. Foxtrot

* * *

It was Thursday.

The blackness of Lester's mood was matched by the weather - the sky was dark and thick with clouds and rain poured down and slammed into the window of his office.

It had been three months since Laeddis's operation.

He wasn't showing any improvement.

As his desperation to provoke a response grew more and more acute, Lester started trying to engage Laeddis in increasingly uncommon ways. Picnics, though Laeddis enjoyed them, were too intimate for Lester to tolerate. Typical interviews and cognitive tests inspired little enthusiasm from doctor or patient.

What had begun as a list of about twenty possible activities had been whittled down to three.

If these three didn't work, and he couldn't come up with anything else, he'd have to resign himself to the reality that Laeddis wouldn't ever regain his faculties.

A knock on the door interrupted Lester's train of thought.

"Yes?"

An orderly opened the door and Laeddis stepped through it. Once the ex-marshal was seated, the orderly left, closing the door behind him.

"How are you feeling, Andrew?" Lester asked. Laeddis shrugged and scratched his upper thigh. The motion aroused a mild curiosity in him and he paused, bringing his hand up to his face to study his fingernails.

"Andrew," Lester repeated, and his patient raised blue eyes to meet his gaze.

"I have something for you - tell me how this makes you feel."

Lester rose from his chair and walked over to the record player he normally kept in his room, but which he'd had brought into his office for this occasion. He picked up the needle and set it on the rotating disk and a familiar tune began to play.

Turning his back on the machine, Lester watched Laeddis's face very closely. He was confused at first, but the confusion gradually gave way to an expression of joy and he smiled up at Lester with such sincerity that it nearly broke the doctor's heart.

"Do you like it?" Lester asked, and Andrew nodded. Then all of a sudden, Andrew was on his feet, and he was reaching for Lester, grabbing at his wrists. Fear made the doctor freeze in place - Andrew was special, but still posed a risk - he was strong and had, at times, been very dangerous... and he was shuffling back and forth.

It took a few minutes for Lester to realize that Andrew was trying to dance with him. The moment he realized this and relaxed slightly, he found himself being dragged through the motions of a sort of clumsy foxtrot.

"Andrew, what are you doing?" he asked, smiling in spite of himself. Laeddis grinned at him and tugged him slightly closer, his hand brushing against Lester's side, tickling and making him yelp. He began to laugh and Andrew joined him.

Neither of them were good dancers, and the office was too small. It was only a matter of time before they tripped and stumbled into one another. Lester was giddy. Andrew leaned in and rested his face against the doctor's own. He skin was hot and his stubble was rough, and the scrape of it against his skin made Lester tremble, suddenly aware of just how close Andrew was to him, the heat of his breath on his ear, the sensation of their fingers tangled together.

"Alright, alright, good, great, I'll just - let me," Lester babbled as he leaned over and shifted the needle. The music stopped and Andrew's shuffling slowed to a stop.

"Did you like that?" Lester asked. Andrew nodded.

"Good. I'm very glad. I have lots of records. We can listen to another one tomorrow, if you like."

"Why not now?"

Lester cleared his throat.

"Well, we can finish this one now, but no dancing with me, okay?"

Laeddis frowned.

"Who, then?"

Lester bit his lip.

"Let's just try listening to it for now. We can worry about dancing later, okay?"

The patient looked disappointed, but he sat down obediently. Lester put the music on again and watched those blue eyes go mellow and calm.

Laeddis didn't make a move to speak or to dance for the rest of the session. He lay on his back on the couch and hummed along with the songs when he knew them, and sometimes when he didn't. Lester didn't mind. He took notes periodically, and did some paperwork.

When the session was long over and the sun had set, Lester retreated to his bedroom and took hold of himself, the memory of Andrew so close and so physical had him reaching his peak in minutes. He cleaned up the evidence, washed his hands, and put on his pajamas.

He felt guilty, very guilty, but also, in a backwards way, proud of himself for resisting temptation even in such difficult conditions. For the first time in a year, he slept soundly and calmly, his mind devoid of any traces of dreams.

 


	6. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes.

* * *

When a storm rolled in, life on the island became considerably more difficult. There were concerns about whether or not flooding would put security and patients’ lives at risk, contact with the mainland became impossible, and everyone was high-strung and hair-triggered.

Another consequence was that picnics were out of the question. As such, Lester’s options were limited, and he and Laeddis spent their sessions listening to records.

One Saturday, when the rain beat furiously down upon the island and the winds roared and raged with a wild fury, Lester waited for Laeddis to be delivered to him. He had exhausted his own record collection, but had been able to borrow one from one of the orderlies. The music was rougher and rawer than what they had listened to before – not the sort of music that was played in the dance halls where white men took their girls – but Lester had a hunch that perhaps the more evocative tones would stir some kind of a reaction in his patient. He hoped so, certainly.

After Laeddis had arrived, Lester put the record on and returned to his paperwork, glancing up from time to time to observe Laeddis’s reaction.

One particular file, which Lester had last added to when he was overtired and distracted, was filled with errors, and setting them right took quite a few minutes. He was nearly finished when he was distracted by a soft groan that came from the direction of the couch.

When he looked up, Lester froze, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock.

Laeddis had slouched on the couch, his head tilted backwards and his legs spread. He was touching himself.

Lester blinked, his eyes riveted on the motion of Laeddis’s hand inside his asylum-issued pants. His mouth was dry and his head felt as though it were going to explode. It took nearly all of his strength to force his eyes back to his paperwork.

Thoughts flew through his mind at unfathomable speeds. Of course, a decreased comprehension of social rules and practices could occur in patients after lobotomies were performed, sometimes, and a man of Laeddis’s age was still quite virile, so such a circumstance was likely, yet the possibility that it could happen with Andrew was one that Lester had been too terrified to contemplate, for fear of what he might do. Yet here he was with his beautiful patient just a few feet away, pleasuring himself shamelessly. The thought made him painfully hard.

Lester glanced down at his lap and reached for himself, internally justifying the need to try to adjust himself, to ease the pressure so that he would not be in pain. The moment his hand touched his flesh, however, it became nearly impossible to stop from stroking himself.

“Nngh…”

The groan when strait to Lester’s cock and he squeezed himself desperately, biting his lip. This was unacceptable. Cruel as it was, that the universe deemed this a fitting punishment for his perversion, Lester was still a doctor and he had a responsibility to Laeddis, to protect him from those who would take advantage of his circumstances – this included Lester himself.

He set his hands on his desk and laced his fingers together, before taking a deep breath and looking up.

 _Lord have mercy on me,_ Lester thought fleetingly. Surely his trials could rival those of Job, or were close to it.

Andrew had tugged the waistband of his pants down, exposing himself. His hand moved over his person at a feverish pace. All at once, he raised his head and smiled at Lester, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused.

“Ahn,” Lester began. When words failed him the first time, he cleared his throat and tried once more.

“Andrew, you can’t,” he murmured.

“Need to.”

“No, no, Andrew you can’t. You can’t do that in public.”

Andrew frowned.

“Not in public. We’re in the office.”

“I know that, but… you can’t. You have to stop.”

Andrew’s frown deepened.

“No.”

“Please, Andrew, just… just pull up your pants, please, please pull up your pants,” Lester blabbered.

Laeddis removed his hands from himself and crossed his arms, scowling. Lester’s stare was riveted on that proud, curved prick, red and dewy at its tip, and so much more beautiful than anything he could remember having seen before.

“Why?” Andrew asked. Lester blinked and tore his eyes away.

“What?”

“Why should I stop?”

Lester debated getting to his feet and pulling the man’s pants up himself, yet to do so would surely give him away, revealing his own erection, and he feared what he’d do, so close to Laeddis’s own prick.

“Please, just… don’t do this, Andrew. It isn’t right, it’s not good… you’re going to… no, I’m going to do something I’ll regret, and I can’t go down that road. Please.”

His earnestness got through to Laeddis though his meaning did not, and the former marshal now looked conflicted. Reluctantly, he tucked himself back into his pants, and when the fabric scrapped against him, he let out a pitiful whine that nearly broke Lester’s heart.

“Wait,” he said, even though the words condemned him. Laeddis looked up.

“Doc?”

“You can… you can finish. Just this once, though, and you must never, ever tell anyone I let you, or we’ll both be in a lot of trouble.”

“Seems silly, to get in trouble for this,” Laeddis remarked, and took himself in hand.

As his patient pleasured himself on the sofa, Lester stared at the words in the file he’d been sorting. He couldn’t read them – all he could do was listen to the telltale sounds of skin against skin, shaky breaths, and the occasional soft moan. His hand drifted once more to his own person and he began to rub himself as discreetly as he could.

The noise Laeddis made when he came – a low, contented sound – was what brought Lester over the edge, and he spilled in his trousers. When he looked up, Laeddis was staring at his hand. He looked around for a place to wipe it, and without thinking, Lester offered him his handkerchief. Laeddis took it and cleaned himself off with it, before handing it back. Lester nearly dropped it as he stuffed it back in his pocket, and the weight of his guilt began to settle on him at last.

He barely made it through the rest of the session.

Once Laeddis was gone, he snuck off to his rooms, a sweater tied around his waist, and had a quick wash and a change. When he met up with Dr. Cawley at dinner, he was sure that his guilt must have shown on his face, yet Cawley made no mention of it.

 _Perhaps he knows, but is waiting until he has more proof,_ Lester’s subconscious supplied, and the thought frightened him so much that he scarcely touched his food, and made an excuse about having a headache, and needing to get an early night’s sleep. As he lay awake in bed, he returned over and over in his mind to that afternoon, to Laeddis’s cock and his moans, and touched himself for the second time that day. It was only after he came that he admitted, bitterly, that he was doomed. He had assured it, now. There was no way to undo his mistake.

And now, like it or not, Laeddis was involved.


End file.
